


Thou Mayest

by VictimofNostalgia



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Fun Times at the Maker's Forge, Gen, My favorite thing ever is humans having fun even when everything is awful, Singing, Songfic, is it considered a song fic if the characters are actually singing the song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictimofNostalgia/pseuds/VictimofNostalgia
Summary: Fury finds out that the Maker's Forge has great acoustics.





	Thou Mayest

**Author's Note:**

> I finished Darksiders 3 a couple weeks ago and finally finished this little idea that had been kicking around in my head the entire time. The song is "Timshel" by Mumford and Sons, specifically this cover by GQ: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b2-itXk_qA&frags=pl%2Cwn
> 
> Gives me goosebumps every time.

Tracking and killing the Seven was proving both frustrating and endlessly tedious. The city was shattered, twisted and broken into geometry so bizarre that it seemed born from some mad Maker's fever dreams. And just about as navigable. The sheer amount of backtracking gave Fury a bigger headache than fighting any of the Sins had.

It was all she could do not to lash out at every single thing that so much as moved around her as she stalked back to the Maker's Forge. Perhaps beating the location of the next Sin out of Ulthane could satisfy her rage for a little bit.

“Hold, Mistress,” the Watcher emerged from a plume of mist before her, spindly hand outstretched to stop her. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear _what_ , Watcher?” Fury growled. “All I hear is _you_ wasting more of my time.”

“Listen,” the Watcher replied, hardly seeming to notice Fury's venom. Her head tilted in the direction of the Tree. “Is that... music?”

Music? What place was there for music in this devastated world? None that she could possibly think of, and yet, as she gave pause... she could certainly hear something It was faint, but... bright. Pure. Musical. Fury moved slowly up to the arch that led into the Forge, cocking an ear to catch the fluttering notes that drifted out to her on the breeze, getting louder the closer she came. Stepping beneath the shadow of the entrance, Fury stopped and looked in.

The denizens of the Forge, Maker an human alike, had gathered around Ulthane's anvil. Sitting on the stone were four human women.

And they were singing.

_“Cold is the water_

_It freezes your already cold mind_

_Already cold, cold mind”_

There were no instruments, no stage, just the four women and their voices and the echoing vault of the Forge.

_“And death is at your doorstep_

_And it will steal your innocence_

_But it will not steal your substance”_

Two of the women kept up a percussive beat of sound, over which the other two harmonized a sweet, melancholy melody.

_“But you are not alone in this!_

_And you are not alone in this!_

_As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand_

_Hold your hand”_

An air of serenity was settled over their listeners. Fury could see how their shoulders seemed just a touch less tense, the lines on their faces smoothed into wistful smiles. Some even closed their eyes as they listened, leaning on their neighbor. A peace, however temporary, had been found here.

_“And you are the mother_

_The mother of your baby child_

_The one to whom you gave life_

_And you have your choices_

_And these are what make man great_

_His ladder to the stars”_

The singers themselves were absorbed in the performance, focused on the synergy of their voices. Hands floated gently, lending gestures to the emphasis of the words.

_“But you are not alone in this!_

_And you are not alone in this!_

_As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand_

_Hold you hand_ ”

It was strange... Fury could feel the rage cooling in her blood, some angry knot in her chest slowly uncoiling as the womens' voices echoed across the walls of the Forge. They seemed to call for the putting down of worries, if only for a bit. Fury had been so busy trying to move as fast as she could that she'd forgotten how heavy her own had gotten. Standing here, at the edge of this little oasis of tranquility, she felt like she _could_ put them down for a while. At least until the song ended.

One of the women dropped her harmony to join the backup, leaving the last to carry the melody. She closed her eyes and raised her voice high.

_“But I will tell the night_

_And whisper 'lose your sight'”_

All four came together.

_“But I can't move the mountains”_

The last syllable held, and even when it ended the echoes hung in the chamber for several heartbeats more.

_“For you.”_

One last harmony lingered and faded, and so too did the reverent silence that followed. A smattering of applause from the meager audience brought bright smiles to the singers' faces. Several of the humans standing next to a Maker had to cover their ears against the thundering claps made by his giant hands. Laughter and soft conversation began to swell as the gathering shifted, people getting to their feet and moving about to talk to each other or go to compliment the singers. Fury felt she'd lingered in the shadows long enough.

Her slow clapping from the entrance drew the attention of the group and the easy atmosphere suddenly tightened like a clenching fist. Humans drew back nervously before her as she sauntered casually among them, making a beeline for the four singers.

“Well, well, it seems as though you're good at something other than cowering in holes,” she said, giving a sickly-sweet smile as the women jumped and pressed together at the sound of her voice. From the corner of her eye Fury could see Ulthane and the human call Jones watching her like hawks. Though, to her, they seemed less like hawks and more like ruffled mother hens.

One of the women blinked, her brow furrowing. “Thank... you? I think...” she said slowly. “We, uh... didn't know you were listening.”

“Your little impromptu concert could be heard for quite some way,” Fury replied. “You should consider yourselves lucky for the protection of this tree; otherwise who knows how many demons would have come calling. They've left no room for beautiful things in this world anymore.” She gestured out the entrance to the shattered silhouettes of the city outside.

The woman flinched at the reminder, but the furrow in her brow shifted quickly from confused to defiant. “Yeah, well, maybe we should make some room,” she said. “It's the end of the world, we're all depressed and traumatized, so why not sing if it makes us feel a little better?”

Fury put up her hands in mock surrender. “I'm not arguing with you,” she said. “We all deal with the Apocalypse in different ways. _I_ fight through hordes of demons to slay the embodiments of Humanity's worst sins, and you practice your imitations of angels and songbirds.”

“Everyone's a critic,” she heard the woman mutter heatedly under her breath. She opened her mouth to reply (probably with something nasty judging by the look on her face), when one of her fellow singers put a hand on her arm. The first woman pouted but said nothing more as her friend turned to speak.

“Look,” she said. Her voice was high and gentle, undoubtedly the soprano of this little quartet. “We've already had almost everything taken from us. If we can't hold on to what little we have left, the good things that we can still remember, then we don't have anything.” She paused, studying Fury with a keen eye and a subtle tilt of her head. “You know, we've got you to thank for helping us keep what we've got. That song might've been forgotten if the four of us hadn't ended up here, so-”

She gave Fury a bright, if somewhat weary smile. “Thank you.”

The genuine gratitude was not something Fury was prepared for. What few humans she'd spoken to here were simply grateful that they themselves were out of danger. Hardly had they acknowledged what it might mean for their kind as a whole, much less Fury's own role in it. It was... oddly satisfying. Fury let the smile unfurl across her face.

“Well, if you're truly so gracious, the next time I come along perhaps you could treat me to a _proper_ concert,” she said.

The grouchy singer looked like she wanted to protest but her friend gave her a not-so-discreet kick in the ankle. “Of course!” she replied. “We'd be happy to show you what we can really do!”

“You'd best not disappoint me then,” Fury warned them teasingly, turning on her heel to meander back on her way. “I have _very_ high standards.”

Despite their best efforts, Fury could definitely hear the hushed whispers the women shared the moment they thought she was out of earshot.

“What a bitch.”

“Be nice Piper. She _did_ save our lives.”

“That doesn't give her the right to talk to us like that Ashe.”

“She's maybe a little rough around the edges, but I do think she was genuinely trying to compliment us.”

“ _God_ , she's so hot.”

“...”

“Janey, what the actual fuck.”

“What? Have you _seen_ her? She could step on me and I'd probably thank her.”

“Janey, you say that about _every_ woman who's taller than you.”

“You say that like its a bad thing.”

“Oh my god.”

One of them had dissolved into giggles and it didn't take long for the rest to follow suit. Fury let out a chuckle of her own and kept going forward. Only the Watcher was close enough to hear the little tune the Horseman began to hum under her breath as she left the Maker's Forge and its precious cargo behind.


End file.
